Like most women, I do not like to pass gas in public. And you never would have heard me fart in the early stages of any relationship. That is just Not Done. The fact that a double standard exists that allows men to cut the cheese in public and practically encourages them to, but labels women as crass if they do it is pretty annoying, too.
However, it’s not that I want women to fart willy-nilly per se–I just don’t particularly want to hear anybody’s flatulence in public. I would be happier if everyone squeezed it in and wait until a more private time to let ‘er rip, or perhaps wait until they explode. Whichever comes last.
Maybe it makes me a prude, but I think it’s just kinda gross to see the obvious pleasure that so many public gas-passers take in said passing of gas.
I’ve actually heard men say that after scrunching up their face, lifting up a butt cheek and squeaking one out. I mean, c’mon! Do they have to make it so obvious?
I realize that farts and burps and such are natural bodily functions. Logically, I really don’t know why they are taboo for half the population (and taboo for the other half, too, when they’re bothering with manners). It seems like such a silly thing. And yet….it’s still disgusting to hear in public. I can’t help it. I don’t know why. Must be the brainwashing, er, I mean “societal conditioning.”
However, on the home front, now that I’ve been married for 12 (or is it 13? I’ve lost track) years, I’m waaaaay past hiding the fact that I have natural bodily functions from my husband. After a particularly gas-inducing meal, we’ll have
gas wars and see whose are worst. Usually, they’re his. (One time, his gas was so bad after we went to bed that I tried to bury my face in the covers to get away from the stench. Bad move. More of the gas lay in wait trapped under the covers and I nearly killed myself from the combo of asphyxiation and poison gas. I wanted an oxygen mask after that, but we didn’t have one handy. So I had to go sleep on the couch to get fresh air.) But every now and again I pack in an extra canister of “what the hell crawled up your butt and died” ammo and I’ll beat him. That’s always fun. Overall, though, I think he’s winning the war.
Of course, I would NEVER do this in public. I would die of embarrassment. I get embarrassed every time he cuts one when we’re in the grocery store. Why I have absolutely no problem with gas at home but I do in the public sphere is completely beyond my understanding. Stupid societal conditioning. But, there you have it.
Which is partly why I’m sooo dang excited about going on this trip. When I’m walking out on the road, no one can hear me fart over the sound of the traffic! And if there is no traffic, there are usually no people. So, again I’m safe! Hah! I can technically break wind like bursts of discordant notes from a tuba. I don’t need to squinch out a silent but deadly (SBD) when I’m on the road. But if I do, my SBD’s can smell like a dead skunk crossed with cabbage and rotten eggs and no one will care. I don’t need to worry about manners or being polite. Because who is going to know?
Ah, freedom. It smells like stinky ass.
Aw, man! You’ve got to be kidding me. I really can’t catch a break!